Cannot Be More Than a Lady
by Rahmi
Summary: Seven times the Princesses of Heart weren't Disney Princess, and the consequences therein. Plus the one time they all were.


_This was written for the cliche bingo square "Fork in the Road AU."_

* * *

**Purity**  
She awakens to seven old, bushy faces leery at her from the end of the bed. Their eyebrows are grey and their beards are full. Not children, but _men._ Seven little men living in the woods.

Snow White presses the back of her hand to her mouth and scrambles to her feet. "Oh," she exclaims, "Oh, I didn't know!"

"Didn't know _what_?" one of them demands.

She jumps at the sound of his voice, gruff and undeniably adult, and wishes she had her cape to press to her breasts. "I didn't know you were little men. I thought you were children!"

"We know what we are," the gruff man says, "Who are you?"

"Snow White," she says politely, judging the distance to the door. "How do you do?"

The jolly looking old man says, "The princess?" just as the angry one demands, "How do we do _what?_"

"Yes," Snow White says, "The princess. I'm so sorry, but I really must be going."

Never be alone with a man, she remembers Stepmother saying. Your virtue is unsafe among their strength and base animal nature. A princess's life is her chastity and though she is running from the queen, she must still retain her purity if she is to marry well.

"At least stay the night," another little man says. His fingers are thick and grimly when he holds them up to halt her exit. "A princess in our humble home!"

She shudders. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly!" Snow White cautiously edges past the row of tiny men and looks towards the door. A stag is standing on the stairs watching her, her dear friends crowded around his feet. She breathes a sigh of relief. "I have to go."

The little men don't try to stop her again as she flees down the stairs and out into the night. The stag bounds along beside her, but she pays it no mind.

She runs because there is nothing else left for her to do. Her doves have flown, white shapes flying so far from here, and she wishes she were one of them. What she wouldn't give to have wings to fly.

The next morning she meets a kind old beggar lady who offers her an apple, pretty and red as a rose, and Snow White gratefully accepts.

* * *

**Diffidence**  
"How'd it do?" asks Jaq.

Cinderella twirls in a slow circle in her ruined dress and smiles. "It was the most magnificent thing I have ever seen," she tells him.

Gus makes a chortling mouse sound of glee. "Good good," he murmurs, rubbing his belly with his tiny front paws. "Cinderelle good good?"

"Like a dream come true," Cinderella says. "I do believe I danced with the prince." She laughs at Jaq's twitching whiskers of disbelief and leans over to pluck him into her hand. "It's true!"

Jaq snuggles against her thumb. "Fibbing Cinderelle, yeah," he says.

"Oh, no." She does another small twirl, laughing as Jaq grumbles. "I'd never tell a lie about a dream."

"Dream come true," Jaq says, "Good for Cinderelle!"

"Yes," Cinderella says. She bends down to allow the other mice to scurry up her arms; it's a long way home and there's no reason for all of them to walk it. "That just means its time for new dreams."

"New dreams?"

"Of course." She taps Bruno lightly on his nose and sets her feet towards home. "Maybe something a little more accessible, though. One can't always have a fairy godmother to make the impossible happen."

She carefully tucks the memory of strong arms around her into her heart. Dreams come true were few and far between the ones deferred. She has no wish to forget it.

The Lady Tremaine locks her in her room the next day as the Grand Duke arrives. Cinderella leans against her window and watches him leave with a small smile. The glass slipper sits on her wardrobe, sparkling gaily in the evening sun.

Her dream had come true on a night that nobody can take from her. It's time for new ones.

* * *

**Incurious**  
Alice sits primly on the ground beside her sister, listening to her history lesson. It is boring and there are no pictures to keep her attention, but if she is to grow to be a lady, it is something that must be done.

She sees a flash of white out of the corner of her eye, but since it is a rabbit with a waistcoat and a watch, she rightly considers that she has had too much sun and wishes she'd brought her bonnet.

"I'm late, I'm late, I'm late!" the rabbit exclaims.

Alice is briefly curious about what a rabbit could possibly be so late for as to make such a fuss.

"Alice," her sister says, "Kindly pay attention to your history lesson."

Alice turns her eyes from the rabbit back to her sister and dismisses it from mind. "I'm listening," she says.

* * *

**Duty**  
"This one last gift, dear child to thee, the symbol of thy royalty. A crown to wear in grace and beauty, as is thy right, and royal duty."

Briar Rose feels the weight of the crown touch her head. She wants to put her face in her arms and cry; instead, she straightens her spine. She is royalty now. She has always been royalty.

Duty keeps her spine straight as the three good fairies flutter about her. "Do you need a moment, my child?" Flora asks, gentle hands on her hair.

Aurora raises her chin and meets her own dry eyes in the mirror. "No," she says, "I'm ready."

She meets her father and mother flanked by the three who have raised her. The woman who embraces her wears her face, still eyes set in a pale pretty face, and for one moment Briar Rose almost cracks.

Then she firms her chin. "I am here to meet my betrothed," she says.

And her betrothed is nowhere to be found. The sun sets as King Hubert stutters his way through the betrothal annulment; it is not until much later that Aurora meets Prince Phillip, when another prince's ring sits heavy on her finger and her belly is ever expanding with the weight of her child.

They regard each other over the weight of her obligations and his freedom. Then she turns away with a hand on her husband's arm, though her heart is crying that if he'd only done what she had done, if only he had put his duty first...!

Upon the birth of her daughter, Briar Rose discards Aurora for a few precious seconds to gather dear Merryweather into her arms. "A gift to my daughter I would ask of you," she whispers.

"Of course, dear," Merryweather says. Rose can feel the wave of the fairy's wand behind her back; her sleeves turn as blue as Merryweather's wings.

"Give her the gift of love," Briar Rose says. "Make her fall in love with the one she will marry. Please, Merryweather, do this for me."

Merryweather's eyes fill suddenly with tears. "Yes," she says, "Oh, Rose, of course."

* * *

**Filial Obligation**  
Belle would do anything for her Papa, anything at all, except betray the Beast. She's a smart girl. Even as the mob screams for her father's blood, her mind is whirling.

She could show them the mirror and save her father. Proof of the Beast would clear Papa's name, but the risks... Belle cannot contemplate a world where this mob is turned on her Beast instead.

"Yes," Belle says, tugging on Gaston's arm, "Yes, Gaston, I'll marry you. Please, save my father." She puts the right amount of pleading in her voice, the right amount of helpless woman to appeal to his pigheaded conceit.

"Really?" Gaston says dumbly. His face splits into a wide smile and he tugs her close with one arm around her waist as he says, "Of course. No woman can resist me for long."

Belle concentrates on how delicate Gaston's body feels after falling in love with the Beast to keep from wrinkling her nose or vomiting. "I'm so sorry for playing so hard to get," Belle says.

"It's alright," Gaston says loudly, boasting already. "You are the most beautiful girl in the village. I'm just glad you've come to your senses. Let me just take care of this little misunderstanding and then we can plan the wedding."

"Of course," Belle says sweetly. She can see Chip out of the corner of her eye, his huge dark eyes filled with tears; she winks at him and watches his china face wrinkle in confusion.

She marries Gaston the next day. On her wedding night, she calmly makes him tea, steeping leaves and berries while she puts up with him man-handling her every which way.

"This is delicious," Gaston declares loudly, swinging his chipped cup from side to side, "My little wife, making me food instead of reading those _books._ I told you a woman didn't need them."

"Yes," Belle agrees demurely, "They give her ideas."

Later, Belle watches from the safety of a chair as Gaston convulses and foams on what should have been their marriage bed. She rises when he stops moving and sweeps her cloak on, tugging her hood over her hair.

The book hadn't been clear if the poison would kill or just incapacitate, but she doesn't want to be around either way. She gathers Chip from the table and smiles reassuringly when he finally opens his eyes.

"Are we going home now?" he asks.

"Of course," Belle says. "We just need to get Papa and Philippe."

The rose has wilted by the time she returns. She doesn't know the significance of it, but there's sadness behind the Beast's eyes before he pulls her close. "You came back," he says.

"Where else would I be?" Belle asks. She closes her eyes and nuzzles into the big paw clasped to her cheek. "I love you."

Papa makes a small, choked noise behind her.

* * *

**Obedience**  
Jasmine has known her entire life that she would marry. During her fifteenth year, she watches all her suitors with dark, shrewd eyes.

"Did someone catch your interest, dearest?" her father asks. He's playing like a child with Prince Fareed's gift; Jasmine fondly thinks that her mother must have been as intelligent as her daughter, to pick a husband such as him.

Pompous and ego-centric princes were not her idea of good potential husbands. "No," she says, twirling her fingers among the fish in her pond, "Not yet, father."

Her father walks a giraffe across the palace walls of his toy. "You only have three days," he says loudly. His dark eyes are befuddled but kind when he looks up. "The law says--"

"I know," she sighs, "And I promise, father, I will have a husband before my next birthday."

"Oh," the sultan says, "Of course, dearest. Just so long as you are married. I'm not going to be around forever, Jasmine. I want you taken care of."

Jasmine tickles Rahjah under his chin with her wet fingers. "I will obey the law, Father."

She just needs to find the perfect suitor first. Jasmine wants someone like her father: malleable, child-like, bumbling and ineffective. She's known for years that Jafar is the true power of her kingdom and it burns like the midday sun.

She needs a husband to execute the Grand Vizier. She will marry one, for the good of her country, and after her father dies and she has an heir, she will have him executed. It is as simple as that.

In the meantime, obedience is her only course of action. "I was rather fond of Prince Nasir," she finally says, leaning over to butt her forehead to Rahjah's. He grumbles at her in tigerish disapproval; the Prince Nasir is a scant thirteen.

"So it shall be done," her father says giddily. He rises to his feet, dropping wooden animals in his wake, and stumbles eagerly towards the door.

She arrests him with a simple, "Father?"

He turns back to her with a simple smile she returns. He is loveable, for all his incompetence, and wrapped around her smallest finger. "Yes, dearest?"

"I would like my marriage to be a surprise to Jafar," she says delicately. She will be queen in a day's time, because her father is easily bullied and will step down when she asks it of him. It wouldn't do for Jafar to make his move for the throne before she can have him killed.

"A surprise for Jafar?" the Sultan asks. He claps his hands together. "Oh, wonderful!"

She watches him scramble into the palace proper before scratching Rahjah's coarse head. "Razoul," she calls softly.

The guard shifts out of his discreet place in the shadows. "Your highness?"

"Please arrange for the Grand Vizier to be beheaded the moment my vows are spoken." Jasmine does not look at her guard; she doesn't need to. He is as loyal to her as he was to her mother. His ancestors have served the royal line of Agraba for generations. "Do not allow him to have prior knowledge."

He salutes her. "It will be done, Princess Jasmine."

At least one good thing will come from her marriage, she thinks grimly, and rises to bathe before she meets her future husband.

* * *

**Dependence**  
When the blonde girl extends her hand, Kairi doesn't know what to think. "Who are you?" she asks, scooting back towards the cage bars. This isn't where she wants to be, but she knows Sora's _here_ and the last time she stepped into one of those, she was whisked world's away.

"I'm a friend," the girl says. She smiles and something inside of Kairi, some empty spot that she has barely noticed, aches. "I came to get you out of here."

"That's what the last one said," Kairi says. "And look how that ended up."

"I know, but you can trust me. You can feel it, can't you?"

She can feel something in her heart. It quivers in excitement. "I'm waiting for Sora," Kairi says stubbornly. "I know he'll come for me again. If I go with you, he might never find me."

The girl steps out of the swirling darkness and clasps her hands behind her back. "Yes, he's coming," she says. "But he won't find you here. You have to come with me; we'll find him together."

"No," Kairi says. "I'm waiting for him."

She trusts Sora to come get her. After all, he's her hero. He saved her once, he'll do it again.

"You won't come?" the blonde girl asks, rocking back on her sandals.

"No," Kairi says. "He'll find us."

"Alright."

Sora does find them, hours and hours later, when the girl that has no name has become transparent next to Kairi. She bounces to her feet anyway and smiles. "Hello, Roxas," the girl says, "I told you we'd meet again."

And then she's gone. Kairi doesn't think Sora sees her at all, but that's alright, because she doesn't want to share this moment with anyone else.

"Kairi!" Sora shouts. She finds herself wrapped in his arms, her smile pressed to his shoulder while he says, "Man, it was crazy finding you. _Xehanort's Heartless_ even helped us out for a little while!"

"Really?" she asks, not really caring. Her hands clench tight in his jacket, solid boy under her palms, and she says, "This is real."

"Yeah," Sora says, "I'm sorry it took so long to find you again."

"That's alright," she says, "I waited."

Sora doesn't come home even after Xemnas is killed. Her stands with his hands behind his head, swaying from foot to foot as she stands before the darkness. "You're sure you can't come home yet?" she asks.

"I still haven't found Riku," he says.

Beside her, the King flinches a little and looks away. Kairi ignores him. "Alright," she says, leaning up on tiptoe to press a shy kiss to Sora's cheek. "When you find him, come home right away, okay?"

"Of course!" Sora says, smiling goofily.

She steps through the corridor.

* * *

**And one time they were.**

"And they all lived happily ever after."


End file.
